


Just Last The Year

by Damalia (Achrya)



Series: Jean and his Otherworldly Boyfriends [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Anal Fingering, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Dark Marco Bott, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, M/M, Might actually not be the demon???, Multi, Panties, Riding, Rimming, Rough Sex, Tail Kink, Voyeurism, Wings, corsets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6474301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you’re dating a demon and an angel you sort of learn to just accept things at face value, so when Jean is informed his boyfriends want to do something special for his birthday and to just ‘trust them’ he goes along with it.</p><p>In hindsight…</p><p> </p><p>(Dirty dirty things.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday Porn for Jean's birthday. It's not the 7th yet you say? ...*eyebrow waggle* Good I say.  
> The editing is so very sketch. So very. I need a writing break, lol

 

Trust us. That was what his boyfriends had said to him when he'd woken up that morning to breakfast in bed, been hauled into a very cramped three person shower full of slippery touches and teasing kisses, and then treated to being Lord of Netflix Choices for the morning without anyone arguing or even snapping at each other. 

It was suspicious as fuck and he'd said as much only to be met with amused smirks and “trust us.”

And he was an idiot or maybe just a sucker for a pretty face (and Marco and Darcio certainly had that going for them) or maybe he loved them enough that, while he didn't trust them to not be up to something, he trusted them to not do anything he wasn't okay with. 

Which was how he ended up tied to a chair and blindfolded, listening to the sounds of the two men who’d insisted he just had to sit tight (like he had a choice with how Marco had straddled his lap and tied him up while distracting him with mind melting kisses) and have faith move around the room. 

Knowing he was unable to get up or really move around was a little unnerving; his wrists were looped with butter soft rope and then tied to the legs of the chair he was in as were his ankles. The rope didn't have any give but it also didn't tighten much when he tried wiggling around and testing out the strength of his bonds, so he supposed that was a decent tradeoff. 

Not being able to see was...interesting. Jean was sure he was noticing things, sounds, and identifying them like he hadn't been able to before. Doors opening and shutting, soft footsteps coming and going, furniture scraping over the floor, and whispering to each other but when he focused he couldn't understand what they were saying because they were absolutely talking Demon, which they knew he hadn't really picked up yet. 

Jerks.

They could have been doing anything, setting him up for anything, and he had no idea. 

It probably should have felt like a bad thing, should have made him nervous considering how strange they could get, but instead there was excitement thrumming under his skin and making his heart thud in his chest. 

They weren’t going to hurt him (at least not in ways he didn't approve of) and he knew that to be completely true. They had, however, promised an amazing birthday gift, had hinted that it was going to be the best *ever*, which probably wasn’t as impressive as a thing as they thought it was considering how shit his childhood had been occasionally, and he'd never known them to not follow through on promises, for better and for worse.

So what were they working on and why did he have to be blindfolded for it? How long was he going to have to stay that way and, most importantly, were they doing any harm to his apartment? For two guys who apparently were an actual Warrior of Heaven who’d been trusted to lead others and a would-be consort of the Demonic Host (which he was assured called for training in grace and delicacy) they tended to be pretty clumsy. Or, at the very least, they underestimated their own strength a lot.

His furniture and walls tended to suffer. 

They stopped talking, stopped moving things around, and what little ability he’d had to track them vanished. The silence stretched on and on, settling over him heavily and he found himself straining against the bonds, moving his head back and forth as if he’d miraculously see past the blindfold or hear something he was missing. 

Neither happened and he was left, in the darkness and eerie silence. 

He swallowed then, tentatively, called out. “Marco? Darcio?”

He heard a rustle of fabric and a dry chuckle that could only be Darcio with Marco’s soft laughter on it’s heels. A soft hum from what seemed to be right in front of him then a wet smacking noise and another laugh. A beat of silence then a crack of skin slapping skin, loud enough in the quiet that it made Jean jump and a yelp that dissolved into surprised laughter that was abruptly muffled.

Jean’s brow furrowed. Were they…? 

They couldn’t be. Could they? While he was blindfolded?

Oh, sure, he could imagine what they would look like together just fine, had thought about it so many times, had fucking drawn it during his horny teenage stage (and fine, maybe a lot lately as well) and it was literally the stuff of his most frequent fantasy. 

But he’d never gotten to see it. They’d been upfront about how, when they’d been apart from him, they’d fooled around but they seemed disinclined to continue to do so, more focused on him than they were on each other. And when they did focus on each other it was to argue and fight and compete over his attention and...it was tedious. 

He wasn’t sure they didn’t hate each other sometimes and then other times he was sure they care about each other as much as they did him because sometimes it was meaningful looks and soft brushes and gifts left around but never spoken of. And everything was still strange and new and felt precarious, like he might wake up some morning and find himself completely alone again, and he didn’t want to disrupt what was there by poking at something neither seemed to want to get into. 

A rustle, a click, and a thump mixed with a moan, still muffled, then a gasped out “Oh!” from Marco and he knew that tone, that ‘surprised in the best way do what you just did again’ voice, and it went straight to his dick. It didn’t seem to matter that he wasn’t the cause for it, couldn’t even see what was going on, because he could picture the heavy lidded brown eyes and full lips parted in a pleased ‘O’ and why couldn’t he see? 

He knew what his mind was conjuring up (Darcio pressing Marco down onto...something, his brain wasn’t that focused on what, biting dark marks into golden brown skin while long graceful fingers curled around horns.)

If he had known they’d be so willing, and it certainly sounded like they were just that, he might have brought it up. Maybe. Probably not. He knew they would do anything if they thought it would make him happy but the idea of them getting together just for him to watch didn’t exactly sit right and, besides that, there was just no normal way to work ‘Hey, no pressure and just say no if it’s not okay, but could I watch you two make out’ into conversation. 

Not even in a relationship as unique as theirs. 

He tugged at his bindings again, biting his lip reflexively as more quiet noises mixed with heavy breathing reached his ears. Someone’s breath hitched and then a wet slurping noise and

This was evil. He expected evil from Darcio, the demon was at his happiest when people who weren’t Jean or Marco were miserable, was known to literally get off on being a dickhead, but from Marco? His sweet, kind, literal angel of a boyfriend was suddenly co-signing what had to be considered torture? 

He pulled at the ropes again, succeeded in making the chair hop and tilt and, for one heart stopping moment, thought he might tip over and crack his head open, successfully ruining his birthday. He didn’t but, in a strange new twist, twisting against the restraints, having them dig just so into the skin of his wrists, felt like...more. More than it had any right to, tight and firm but soft and what was- 

“Dar.” Marco’s voice was rough and amused.

Darcio sighed loudly, sounding painfully exasperated and then, though there was no noise, Jean could feel that the demon was in front of him, bending over him. Both of his lovers ran warmer than humans did but the demon was hotter still and Jean could feel that heat now, licking over his skin like Darcio was made of fire. 

A fingertip touched his face, hot and the nail a little sharp as it dragged over his skin. He shuddered, sucking in air at the strangely powerful sensation, then moaned eagerly when warm spit slicked lips ghosted over his own. He moved his head forward, parted his lips and

“Darcio.” 

Darcio’s touch was gone so fast is made Jean’s head swim even as Marco’s sharp tone made his stomach clench. Everything was still for a moment then he was aware of Darcio leaning back in, reaching around him but not touching. A tug at the blindfold and then it was falling away, sliding silkily over his face to pool in his lap. 

He squinted as light and color came back to the world and blinked. His eyes jumped from Darcio to Marco and back, chest tightening as he tried to take in exactly what he was seeing and he really didn’t even know where to start. 

Darcio straightened up, giving Jean a better look at the stark white corset, edged in pink frills and pulled tight with a delicate looking pink ribbon, and matching pink and white lace panties he was wearing. The demon was bigger than Jean, hard and made of dense muscle, but now there was a soft curve that wasn’t normally there and it was...appealing in a way he’d never really considered before. Which was to saw nothing of the way the panties hugged his dick and balls and the thin pink ribbons edging the side contrasted with the deep tan of his skin. 

His wings were out and it had to be for Jean’s benefit because Darcio wasn’t a fan of how they looked. They weren’t much more than thin, near translucent skin, stretched over narrow bone and they weren’t ‘pretty’ like Marco’s were but Jean liked them anyway. There was something about all that seemingly sweet white and pink (were those knee highs? With pretty pink bows and lace at the top? Jesus) with glossy black horns, batlike wings, and that singular russet colored eye that made his mouth dry out. 

When Darcio turned around to walk back to Marco it was with swaying hips, a swinging tail and lace that looked like it was straining over the curves of his ass. 

Looking at Marco wasn’t any safer. If Darcio was going for sweet then Marco was going for the opposite (clearly it was a themed event and no one had told him because he was in nothing but old worn pajama pants and fuzzy socks) and if someone ever told Jean this was the image of a being meant to lead someone into sin he would have agreed in a heartbeat. It wasn’t so much what he was wearing, though Jean’s brain certainly stuttered over obscenely tiny black shorts (how had he even gotten those up over his thighs?) and the plain-as day hardon pushing against the front of them, the long exposed stretches of golden-brown skin, and the glittering bits of metal here and there. Studs at the lobe and rings at the tips of his pointed ears, tight cuffs around biceps and wrists, curved barbells through his nipples and Jean knew there was another one, hidden by those shorts and he was still trying to grasp it being Marco who went for that sort of thing while Darcio wrinkled his nose at the thought of poking holes where they didn’t go. His wings were folded in as well, framing him with golds, silvers, and creams, rustling softly when he breathed and god, they were amazing to look at. 

It wasn’t even the tousled curls, swollen and reddened lips quirked up into a knowing grin that made Jean hot all over, or the heavy lidded lustful look in his eyes. No, it was all presence; the way he was leaning casually against the table, hands curling over the edge, head cocked to the side, an air of confidence as his smile grew enough to show off even white teeth. He looked like a guy who’d led a squad of warrior angels and would have no problem keeping a skinny human and an occasionally cranky demon in line. 

(And, now that Jean thought about it, wasn’t that exactly what Marco did?) 

It was pretty hot, over all. 

Got hotter when Marco hopped up onto the table and Darcio climbed up over him, settling in the angel’s lap and looping his arms around Marco’s neck. They were at an angle that let him see their sides and a fair bit of Darcio’s back. When the demon leaned in to bring his face closer to Marco’s but a hand in his hair stopped him, forced him to tip his head back into the angel’s grip and stretch out the smooth column of his throat, Jean could see the surprise and want written all over Darcio’s face. 

He and Darcio moaned in tandem. He wasn’t sure if Marco’s sharp grin was for the demon, him, or both. 

Probably both. 

Jean was suddenly very aware that he might have misjudged who was orchestrating the evil here. 

Marco's other hand swept down Darcio’s back, drifting lazily over the curve he forcing from the demon's spine. Fingers skimmed the bit of skin between the corset and the panties, nearly touching Darcio’s tail. 

Jean wasn't being touched and still felt the anticipation twisting in his gut; Marco's fingers were so close, circling the tail but not quite touching, and Darcio was holding himself perfectly still, not even his usually expressive tail was moving. 

Movement drew Jean's attention back up just in time to see Marco pressing his lips to Darcio’s throat. It was just a kiss for a moment, a seemingly chaste touch over tan skin that was duplicated a touch lower then lower still. He couldn't see the demon’s eye, it was the dark eyepatch facing towards him, but when his head was wrenched what looked to be roughly to the side he saw how his hips rocked forward and his hands slid to press against the angel’s back, creeping between his wings. Marco hummed, brown eyes sliding over to Jean, then his tongue swept up over where his lips had been. 

He saw teeth, straight and even, and then nothing because Marco's head was in the way but he imagined he felt the press of teeth like it was his throat. Knew the blunt pressure, the feeling of Marco’s wet breath, the touch of tongue, the way his heart squeezed and pleasure zipped up his spine.

They bit, a lot, and it was one of those things Jean had just come to terms with, though he's had to direct them away from leaving hickies all over his neck for the sake of his sanity. It was, they'd explained, about protection and possession, scaring off others by marking him as belonging to them (trying to explain that he didn't belong to anyone because that wasn't how humans worked had just gotten him identical blank looks) and it was about love and wanting to claim him for all the world could see, and keeping the bond from him to them strong. 

The latter he could believe, always felt like he could feel them under his skin, in his blood, quite whispers in the back of his mind after the bites. He didn’t really understand it and couldn’t begin to explain what it was, the proper words for it apparently didn’t exist for humans, but he knew it was a real thing. 

They didn't bite each other, at least not that he'd ever been witness to. He’d never thought about it before but now he didn’t think he’d ever think about anything else.

Darcio’s entire body jumped, mouth open wide but no sound coming out. His tail thrashed but then Marco's hand was on it, fingers curling around as his thumb pressed against the base, and that brought a strangled gasp from the demon. 

He knew all the sensitive parts of his lovers, knew that grabbing Darcio’s tail was a foolproof way to get the demon to shut his mouth and to blow his mind in the right context, but under Marco’s touch he seemed to tighten up, body rigid and trembling. Marco pulled away from his neck, giving Jean a view of a dark angry mark on his neck, impression of teeth so deep he was sure he could see their individual outline, and then they were kissing. 

It looked harsh from where Jean was sitting, noses bumping, lips mashed together messily and drawn out by biting teeth, sucked into the other’s mouth, flashes of tongue and trails of spit when they just barely drew back to breathe, a distinct curl of a smile on Marco’s end. It was Darcio’s hands in Marco’s hair now, pulling so hard Jean’s scalp tingled in sympathy, and Marco’s hands on his ass. He could see where Marco was gripping hard, fingers pushing into the crack of the demon’s ass, hauling him closer until he was rising up on his knees, rubbing his lace covered dick against Marco’s stomach. 

Jean, on the other hand, was hard, dick tenting his pajama pants, with no recourse. He squirmed a little but the barely there touch of threadbare fabric over his cock was more of a tease than anything else, but the thought of asking them to pay attention to him didn’t even enter his mind. His skin was hot, burning up, and every press of fingers and noise had him leaning forward, trying to make sure he didn't miss anything.

They parted again, lips smacking wetly, and Marco’s eyes slide over to him again. Another sharp grin and then Marco had hands on Darcio’s hips, was pushing him back to put space between them.. The demon whined a protest against Marco’s mouth.

Jean could relate. The last thing he wanted was them to be apart from each other, to ruin the image of these two, near identical men, twined around each other, breathing each other’s air, sharing hard sloppy kisses, touching each other like a scene right out of his dreams. 

“Jean,” Marco’s voice was honeyed sweetness and Jean was pretty sure he wasn’t buying it. “What do you want to see? Anything you want.” 

Jean binked rapidly, the request cutting through his arousal like a knife through soft butter. Every filthy thought he’d ever had about the two of them seemed to just drop right out of his traitorous head. He hadn’t known there were going to be questions or an interactive portion! He hadn’t been prepared for this. 

He must have been taking too long because Darcio twisted around to look at him fully, tongue dragging over his lips while he regarded Jean with a hazy eye. It was surreal; Darcio was always so controlled, so forceful, but there he was straddling Marco looking sexy and damn near cute, just waiting for whatever Jean was going to ask him to do. He licked his lips again and Jean knew exactly what he wanted to see. 

“I want you to suck Marco’s dick.” Neither reacted for a second and Jean found himself hurrying to add. “I mean. If you want. I’d like to see. That. Maybe.” 

Darcio’s eyebrows went up and there was a teasing light in his gaze. “Are you sure? You don’t sound sure.” 

“Dar,” Marco’s voice had dropped, picked up the same edge he’d had when ordering the demon away from him. “Suck me.”

Jean hadn’t realized two such simple small words could made his stomach twist and his skin flush with heat until that moment. Maybe it was just that it was coming from Marco, who was so careful and always asked before he did anything and did his best to treat him gently (even when fucking his brains loose), and that it was absolutely a command, not a request. 

It seemed to work for the demon too because Darcio started moving, quickly going from kneeling on the table and straddling Marco to standing on the floor, hands on Marco’s thighs. 

“Make it look good.” Marco said so quietly Jean wasn’t all that sure he’d even heard it.

Darcio sniffed. “I always look good.”

And then he was leaning in, mouth and hands on Marco’s skin, slowly making a path down the angel’s chest. Collarbone, nipples, abs, the dusting of hair that trailed from Marco’s belly button to under the waistband of his shorts, everything got attention as Darcio slithered down to the floor.

And it was slithering, there was just no other way for Jean to describe the flowing sensuous way the demon moved. If the way his fingers splayed out over the angel’s skin, his nails left thin red raised lines, and his tail curled around Marco’s leg was part of looking good then he was going a fantastic job because Jean was of the edge of his seat, metaphorically, by the time Darcio’s knees hit the floor. 

Marco’s shorts were discarded in short order and his cock was freed. It was long and thick, flushed with blood, and curved upwards to his belly. Jean went from a mouth so dry no amount of swallowing was helping to practically drooling as Darcio’s closed mouth ghosted over the tip, letting precum smear over his lips. 

Long fingers stroked up the shaft, Darcio’s thumb paying careful attention to the piercing just under the head on the underside, touching in the way Jean knew made Marco shake, before moving back down. He followed the motion with his lips, mouthing and nuzzling at Marco’s cock. 

He licked his way back up, fast little licks up and then abruptly back down, like he was chasing after drips of a melting popsicle. Marco touched the top of his head, between the curved horns, but didn’t say or do anything else. It got him a quick look from the demon but then Darcio was back to his task, licking over the tip of Marco’s cock with exaggerated slowness, hand slowly pumping up and down over the rest. Jean could see saliva dripping from his mouth, running down Marco’s dick, as he swirled his tongue over the head before dipping lower to tongue over the piercing. 

Marco grunted, hips jerking up and fingers twisting strands of glossy black hair around them. The demon chuckled, earning an annoyed look from Marco. It melted quickly into an open mouthed groan when Darcio’s lips stretched over his cock, slurping loudly as he sucked the head in. 

It was a show for him and Jean knew that, loved it, was breathing hard as he watched and listened  _ listened _ because oh god he’d been on the receiving end of blowjobs from the demon and it had never  _ sounded _ like this. Darcio was louder than he’d ever been, every noise eager and dirty, slurps and moans and heavy breathing as he sucked and bobbed, lips smirking around the dick in his mouth the whole time. 

He’d expected something good. One of his favorite things was to watch Darcio on his dick because he gave blowjobs like it was his favorite thing in the world. Hell, maybe it was: the demon went at it was a single minded enthusiasm that never failed to make Jean breathless and there was never any doubt that Darcio was enjoying every minute of it. 

But this. This was  _ terrible _ . 

Worst, or best, of all was when he slid down to take Marco deep into his throat. With his nose buried into dark wiry hairs he made the most sinful choked gurgling noises, cheeks hollowing out as spit leaked from between his lips, before pulling off, panting and gasping and drooling. He’d lick and put his hand back to work, let Marco’s cock sit on his tongue while he moved his fist over it. He couldn’t see it but he could imagine Darcio’s good eye peering up at Marco, silently begging for more. 

He knew what it looked like, how that expression made heat boil in his stomach and want to push into that willing mouth over and over. He knew Darcio’s mouth, that clever tongue, the just right scrape of sharp teeth, the snug wet heat all around him, sucking him in. 

He was thoroughly back in the ‘this is evil’ camp. He didn’t think he’d ever been so hard in his life and a wet spot was starting to form where his dick was pushing against his pants. 

Marco’s hips stuttered forward, cock sinking deeper into the demon’s mouth and then back just as quickly; the hand on the table scratched lines in the wood. Jean realized he was shaking, apparently with the effort of staying still. 

Had he told Marco not to move? No but he hadn’t told him to move either. 

A fleeting image of Marco moving, pistoning into Darcio’s mouth, made his toes curl and his cock throb. He knew what it was like to have Marco fuck his mouth, battering the back of his throat as he held him in place, gagging him until tears ran down his face, and just  _ taking _ what he wanted until he was coming down Jean’s throat or across his face. There weren’t a lot of situations where he could get Marco to be rough with him but that was one. 

He swallowed then, trying to get around the phantom feeling of Marco in his mouth, and clenched his hands so hard that his nails dug into his skin. 

“N-no.” His voice broke and he had to cough to clear his throat before trying again. Marco’s head had snapped around when he’d spoken but Darcio was still happily...occupied. “I mean. You can...fuck his mouth? That would be good.” 

Darcio made a whining sound that could only be called ‘enthusiastic’. Marco looked frazzled for a second, eyes flicking between the two of them like he didn’t understand what they were saying, then started to nod slowly.  

Jean watched as Darcio scrambled back enough to give Marco room to stand up then settled back on his calves, mouth open expectantly. Marco laughed, breathless, then shook his head before looking over at Jean. 

“This is supposed to be for you, not him.” He put his hand on Darcio’s face as he spoke, drew the demon close. His thumb hooked into that waiting mouth, forced it to open wider.  “But you’re picking his favorite things. I know you know how much he likes cock in his mouth. He is a pretty cocksucker though, isn’t he?” 

Jean didn’t have anything to say to that. For starters it was absolutely true and, as a secondary but much larger issue, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to say anything coherent because Marco was saying words Jean hadn’t even imagined in his mouth before (but he should have because it was amazing, jesus christ.) 

“Maybe you’d like to watch me fuck him instead.” 

Jean nodded fervently, would have told Marco just how much that was something he wanted to see, thanks very much, except Marco was talking again. 

“Get yourself ready for me.” 

Jean let his head drop back, uncaring that it collided with the back of the chair. His chest was so tight he was half afraid he might pass out (and wouldn’t this be a terrible time for that?) He had to remind himself to breathe and looking up at the ceiling helped some. The ceiling wasn’t doing things that made him feel like he was going to burst or start begging for someone to touch his dick or to be untied so he could touch it or anything, really, at all, other than the ineffective rub of fabric that was almost uncomfortable now.   

But god he didn’t want to stop what was about to happen. 

A breathy exhale that sounded a lot like his name made him tear his eyes from the ceiling. Darcio was bent over the table, chest flat on it, ass towards him. One hand was on his ass, spreading himself and holding the panties to the side, and a finger from his other hand was two knuckles deep in his hole. He pushed deeper, until his hand was flush against his ass, then drew back slowly, sighing Jean’s name again. 

That. That was. 

“Fuck.”

Marco was standing off to the side, teeth in his lower lip, but he quirked an eyebrow at Jean as if in agreement.  

Darcio started fucking himself faster after he’d added a second slickened finger in with the first, grunting quietly. His legs opened further, spread himself open more for Jean’s eyes to better drink in how his entrance stretched to accommodate his fingers when he scissored them apart. . 

A pause to pour more lube over his fingers and, flashing Jean a cheeky smile before bending back over, he was pushing three fingers in. Darcio got louder, moved his fingers faster, rocked back into it. A twist of his hand and then he was up on his toes, back arching as a shaky cry fell from his lips.

“Look good?” 

It took an embarrassingly long time for Jean to realize Marco was speaking to him, time that the demon used to continue fucking himself with his fingers and how was Jean supposed to concentrate with that in front of him. He managed to nod and say something that was hopefully a ‘yes please fuck what the fuck why are you asking and not doing oh my god’ but might have been “Nnnghh.” 

Jean licked his lips as he watched Marco move back into the demon’s space and run fingers up his spine to between his shoulder blades and wings before easing himself back up onto the table. Dacrio straightened up, shoulders rolling, and his wings rippled like the surface of a lake when a stone was dropped into before fading away. In their places were lines of runes in black ink that scrolled together in an abstract wing pattern. 

Jean normally thought it was all very strange and disturbing and pretty, in a way, but he didn’t spare it much of a thought as he watched Darcio crawl up after Marco, his knees bent and resting on the table on either side of the angel one again. 

The way they were sitting, with Marco leaning back on his elbows with Darco over him, leaning forward a little, let him see everything. Marco’s hand on the demon’s hip, steadying him as he rose up some. Darcio’s hand reaching back to hold Marco’s cock and angle it how he needed it. How Marco’s dick pressed against the demon’s entrance, slowly forcing the ring of muscle to accept him. How it sank in inch by inch until Darcio was all the way down and flush against Marco’s hips. How the demon was stretched open, tight and clinging to Marco’s cock, and how the white lace of the panties rested right against where they were connected.

The demon’s shoulders were tight with tension, toes curled, and Jean could hear him breathing hard. Marco’s hand ran up his side but was smacked away with the familiar sound of Darcio snapping his teeth. His tail lashed, another indicator of irritation. 

“I’m fine. It’ll take more than your dick to hurt me.”

Somebody giggled. It might have been Jean, he wasn’t completely sure because his head was swimming and it was sort of hard to really focus on anything except his lovers and how they were joined together. 

Darcio tossed him a look over his shoulder then snorted before turning back to look down at Marco. He rocked up, Marco’s cock slipping out of him some then dropped back down; the smack of skin against skin mixing with Marco’s sharp intake of breath was strangely loud to Jean’s ears. The motion was repeated, Darcio rising up higher, and coming back down slower. His hips swiveled some, grinding against the angel, before he slid up Marco’s dick again. 

It took a little for Darcio to find something that seemed to suit him, a quick slide up and down that had him bouncing almost shallowly then grinding down when Marco was back in to the hilt, but once he did he went for it. 

He rode Marco hard, shook the table (They were going to need a new table because there was no way he was going to be able to eat it that one and not think of this) and swore and moaned, back bowed and sweat sliding down his spine. Marco’s hands settled on the demons ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh, dragging him back onto his cock harder. Marco’s wings shifted just enough that the tips brushed the demon’s thighs. 

It would be a soft silky touch, cool against heated skin, and Jean almost wished it was him being stroked by Marco’s feathers. 

Almost. 

Watching Marco’s cock plunge in and out of Darcio, seeing them move together, was officially better than Jean could have imagined on his own. He’d never dreamed about the way Darcio’s tail would wrap around one of Marco’s wrists or how Marco’s free hand would press against the small of Darcio’s back. Hadn’t thought about the way golden wings would look playing over black ink, the way Darcio would drag his hand through his hair and swear at the ceiling when he came down on Marco just right. Hadn’t forseen Darcio being hauled down so he was practically lying on Marco, the messy sound of lips sliding over each other, or how the changed angle would have them both crying out. 

When Marco came, body going rigid and hands spasming over the demon’s skin, it was with Darcio’s name in his mouth, thick and drawn out, and that too was something Jean had never considered let alone realized how good it would sound in his ears. The tension in his stomach snapped like a cord pulled too tight and he shouted, almost surprised when the pressure in his cock released. He clamped his eyes shut, shaking as he came in warm sticky spurts in his pants. It almost hurt, an ache in balls and low in his gut, and he couldn’t do anything about but dig his heels into the floor and twist

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to come back down but when he opened his eyes it was to Darcio leaning in close, showing off his sharp canines in a grin. It probably should have been disconcerting but Jean just wanted to kiss him and run his tongue over the sharp points. A look over the demon’s shoulder found Marco still on the table, head propped up to watch them but showing no signs that he intended to move anytime soon.

“So,” Fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants. “We’re going to get these off and I’m going to lick you clean. The plan was for me to ride you but it looks like you’ll need a few minutes so I guess I’ll just fuck you until you’re crying on my dick.” Jean had to bite back a groan. “And then Marco is going to fuck you. Then again and again until you tell us to stop. Sound good?” 

Jean took about half a second to think about it before nodding. Darcio practically purred his approval before leaning in and dragging his tongue over the shell of Jean’s ear.

“Such a good little cockslut.” 

Jean whimpered. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gross sex is had. Darcio is a filthy cumslut and Jean just really likes cock. Marco is...well.

Darcio was true to his word and had him untied, stripped out of his pants, and falling apart under his tongue and fingers in short order.

Having his limbs free felt amazing; the ropes hadn’t been overly tight or uncomfortable on their own but being unable to move and sitting in the same position, hands down at his sides, had caused the his hands and fingers to go tingly and nearly numb. He didn’t get much time to enjoy it, barely got to flex his fingers, before he was being hauled to the edge of the chair, one leg hiked up to drape over Darcio’s shoulder. A filthy grin was all the warning he got before the demon was putting his mouth to work. His body jerked hard, would have left the seat if not for strong hands holding him in place, when Darcio’s tongue met his skin. It was the barest of touches but it sent almost painful shocks right to his core, made the ache in his gut come back in full force.

He could barely keep his eyes open and clear to watch Darcio eagerly using his tongue to clean up the rapidly cooling mess smeared over his crotch and, frankly, wasn’t sure if he should. The demon started low, tonguing his balls and chuckling with Jean jumped again, and gathering up beads of cum that had slipped down then following the sticky trails up. He gathered up as much as he could, painting his tongue with cum and swallowing it down with a satisfied purr, lips curving upwards. 

When Darcio’s tongue lapped over his mostly flaccid cock it was like electricity up his spine and when he stroked his tongue over then dipped into the slit it was all he could do to hold back a shout. More laughter, this time from Marco, but any retort from him ended up a garbled moan as he was sucked into Darcio’s mouth. 

Everything, the wet heat of the demon’s mouth, the curl of his tongue, and the press of fingers holding him place, seemed to be that much more intense, had heat racing through his blood and his heart pounding already. He didn’t know if it was because he’d gone untouched for so long or if was too much too soon but the end result was the same, him hunched over Darcio and shutting his eyes against the stomach twisting sensation. 

It was almost like he’d hadn’t gotten off at all, the heat and tightness was building back up inside of him so swiftly. They’d sort of played at this before, having him come and then slowly getting him worked up again but this wasn’t slow and it was making his head swim. 

He was so swept up, unable to concentrate on anything but Darcio’s mouth, that he missed one of the demon’s hands leaving his thighs until he felt a finger rubbing against his entrance. Jean sucked in a breath as the slick finger circled around his hole then slowly pressed in.

The first slick drags in and out were slow and shallow, working in more with each pass. The demon took his cock deeper, let it slip into his throat as it hardened, and swallowed as a second slick finger was added alongside the first; Jean swore and, again, it was only the demon's hand holding him in place that kept him on the chair. 

Fingers curled as they brushed over his prostate, made his hips jerk up to push his dick deeper into the silken heat of the demon's mouth. His skin tingled with anticipation for something more, something bigger, and he rocked down on Darcio's fingers, wished they could reach further inside.

Sometimes he surprised himself with how much he could want them, how desperate and needy he could become if they pushed and played with him just right. He supposed there might have been some truth to Darcio calling him a cockslut because there were times when he felt like he could die happy as long as one of them was inside of him, using him so thoroughly he'd feel it for days. 

Darcio pulled off of his cock with a wet pop and, a moment later, there was a gust of warm air against where the demon's fingers were impaling him. 

His eyes snapped open and for a moment he was distracted by Marco. The angel had pushed up so he was sitting crossed legged on the table top and was touching himself, almost lazy movements of his fist up and down on his shaft while his other hand cupped his balls, and watching them with rapt fascination. He smiled at Jean and there was something hungry in his eyes that made his insides turn liquid. 

Fingers slid out of him, moving back to drift up the crack of his ass, but they were quickly replaced by Darcio’s tongue, thick and hot, licking in where they'd been.

“Jesus fuck!” 

Dacrio’s laugh vibrated through him. His tongue was like molten heat inside of him, dripping in thick and wet with each firm stroke. He kept his movements short, licking a little inside and using the flat of his tongue to tease the sensitive nerves there then swirling around in slow filthy ways before darting back out.

Teeth grazed against him, nibbled gently; he wrapped a hand around a horn, gripped tightly. Darcio’s tongue fluttered against his entrance, the tip circling before diving back inside.Jean’s eyes darted down to the top of the demon’s head for a moment, got a hint of a glowing red eye and then hair was in his way, then back to Marco.

Who licked his lips and looked so much like he'd like to be the one eating him that it made Jean’s chest hurt, constricting tightness that made him feel like he had to fight to breathe. 

Or maybe that was just the way Darcios’s tongue had snaked in deeper, coiling and painting sweeping circles as it fucked into him. He pushed into it shamelessly, trying to use his hold on the demon to drag him closer, and tried very hard to not think about what it looked like from Marco’s angle. 

Thought about it anyway.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” His leg was still up and over Darcio’s shoulder and he dug the heel of his foot into the demon’s back. 

Darcio stopped, picked his head up and regarded him with a solemn expression that didn’t match his flushed cheeks or the spit covered state of his mouth and chin. “That’s the idea.” 

Jean’s half-hearted glare was rewarded with a smile and then Darcio was standing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and shedding his lingerie. When he was bare, giving Jean an eyeful of his cock and the precum practically drooling from the trip, he grabbed his arms and forced him to stand up. Jean’s legs protested and his knees shook but Darcio kept him up long enough to take his seat and then he had a hand on his hip, guiding him to where the demon wanted him; facing Marco, legs on the outside of Darcio’s, one hand behind him to rest on the demon’s shoulder to keep him steady as he lowered himself. 

Left to his own devices he would have gone slowly, enjoyed that feeling of being opened up by his lover’s dick, but Darcio had other ideas. There was blunt pressure against him, barely enough time for him to exhale, and then he was dragged down hard as hips snapped up to meet him. 

It was all at once, from nothing to cock in him to the hilt, and burning pressure inside. He half shouted-half groaned, dug his nails into Darcio’s shoulder, and watched Marco’s mouth form an ‘o’ as his pupils stretched. It didn’t hurt really, just pressure and that feeling like he’d been filled up completely. 

It was a lot, all at once, and before he could really catch his breath Darcio was speaking again his ear, hot and deep. “You just sit pretty and watch Marco, okay? Be my toy.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, it probably wasn’t a real question anyway, and that was fine because Jean just made a whining noise in the back of his throat that he was going to deny later. The hands on his waist started moving him, lifting him up on Darcio’s cock and then bringing him back down to meet the demon’s upward thrusts. 

It was slow, Darcio bringing him up until on the head of his cock was still in him, and hard, each time the demon slammed up drove him in deep. His dick was pulsing inside of him and Jean could feel every twitch and throb, clenched around it greedily. Darcio kissed his neck, shoulders, back, scratched at his skin, whispered to him and it was all terrible wonderful things that went straight to Jean’s dick, and the occasional reminder to keep his eyes on Marco. 

The angel needed no such reminder, was looking at them like they were the only thing in the world, touching himself in the same rhythm Jean was being maneuvered into. He held Marco’s gaze as pleas for more, faster, please please, fell from his lips, felt dirty and almost ashamed while he did he. He was dizzy, too hot, strangely exposed even though this wasn’t the first time Marco had watched him with Darcio. 

He didn’t know what was different about this time, couldn’t really think about anything but Darcio inside of him, stroking over sensitive muscle and picking up speed, and trying to just take it, but he knew it was different. 

Maybe because he wasn’t doing anything, just sitting there and letting his body be manipulated. Darcio’s superior strength made lifting Jean about as easy as lifting a coffee cup (or maybe that was an exaggeration, who could be sure with Darcio.) and he was taking advantage of it. Moved Jean up and down, forwards and back, faster or slower on his own whims, wrapped him up in his arms and pushed up into him with short fast movements that had him whimpering as his prostate was ground against.

Maybe it was that Marco had never seen him beg. He didn’t have to with the angel (Unless ‘Please fuck my mouth’ qualified and he didn’t think it did) but Darcio liked making him feel powerless and holding him tight until he was thrashing and crying and Jean liked feeling that way, desperate and needy.

His ear was licked, nipped at and sucked then Darcio was breathing words into it. So good, so pretty, perfect little fuck doll, taking my cock so good, gonna be so good for us today, use you over and over. 

Marco’s eyes were hot, burning him as they watched and Jean felt himself blushing in spite of himself. He almost believed he was really some fuck toy, nothing but a doll Darcio was excited to show off, and Marco was watching it happen. Could probably tell that they’d played this ‘be good and don’t move’ game before and that Jean was pretty good at it, barely twitched back onto Darcio’s dick at all. 

He wanted to look away, didn’t or couldn’t, just watched the angel watch them, listened to Darcio’s words turned into strained noises against his skin. He could tell Darcio was close by how he was moving, messy and erratic as he chased after his own orgasm. It didn’t take long, a few hard thrusts and Darcio swore loudly and Jean felt the first pulse of thick cum inside of him. He ground his hips against Jean as he shot deep into him and it was hot, always was, almost uncomfortably so. 

Jean’s cock jerked, more precum dribbling out and beading down the head and shaft, and he was sure if he reached to touch it he’d be following Darcio over the edge in no time. Might have done it if Marco wasn’t watching and he didn’t feel like, somehow, it would disappoint him.

Darcio was tight against his back, sweaty and breathing hard, for a moment. His cock was still hard and twitching inside of him, demons and angels had the dubious gift of ‘literally no required recovery time’, and Jean half expected him to start moving again. Instead Darcio picked his head up and, voice rough and deeper than usual, spoke. 

“Where do you want him?” 

It took Jean a second to realize ‘him’ was...well him. Marco inclined his head at the table and he felt Darcio nod. Turned to look at the demon, found him red faced and red eyed but smirking darkly. He was lifted off of Darcio’s dick and found himself biting his lip at the feeling of him slipping free. He felt looser, empty, and even though the lull was taking some of the edge off he was still keyed up and breathing hard. 

He was hefted up, practically draped over the demon’s shoulder and moved across the room in three long steps. Jean wasn’t sure what to focus on, that he was being carried around (they knew he hated that), the tickling feeling of Darcio’s cum moving inside of him, or the tingle of anticipation in his gut at what was coming next.

He was set down on his feet and turned to face the table. Darcio stepped away, letting Marco fill the space behind him and then a hand was between his shoulders pushing him forward over the table, making him bend at the waist until his chest was flat and his head was pillowed on his arms. A foot nudged between his own, forced them apart; cum started to trickle out of his hole. 

Darcio’s appreciative hum was, maybe, a little smug as well. 

Marco pressed in close, guiding his cock to glide along the crack of his ass and through the mess starting to drip out of him, then nudging against his loosened entrance. A roll of Marco’s hips and he was sinking in easily, Jean more than wet and open enough. It was a tighter fit, Marco’s dick was a little thicker around but a bit shorter than Darcio’s and then there was that piercing that made it just a little more snug. It had been unnerving at first but he’d gotten used to it, even liked the feel of perfectly smooth metal rubbing inside of him. 

“Darcio seems to think you’d like if I was a little...rougher.” Marco said, tone almost bland. Jean blinked then started straighten, mouth open to say something he hadn’t thought through all the way yet (But hopefully amounted to him being perfectly happy with their sex lives because if anyone could turn ‘Sometimes Jean wants to be smacked and called names’ into ‘Jean thinks you're bad in bed’ it was Darcio), but the hand on his back was on his neck right away, shoving him back into place hard. It wasn’t enough to hurt but it made the point.

“I didn’t tell you to move.” 

Shit. If Marco was going to talking like that, dark and commanding, and shoving him around he was going to...do embarrassing things like whining and pushing back on his dick. 

“I’ll assume that was a yes.” 

And that was all the warning he got before Marco’s hand pressed on the small of his back, holding him in place, and the angel started pounding into him. He started hard and fast, forced all the air out of his lungs, drove him forward with enough force that he slid across the table, and 

Just

Fuck

It was so fucking perfect. 

Marco felt like he was splitting him open, suddenly seemed bigger and harder and was hitting the right spots just right every time he slammed in. The noise when they came together was wet skin and a filthy squelch as Darcio’s cum was moved, some of it forced out to coat his inner thighs, and he could feel the balls of Marco’s piercing, a different texture and ridge that made him twist up when they moved over sensitive nerves. He tried to rock back, to ride Marco’s dick and get him back in sooner when he dragged out, but he was breathless and his legs were shaking and why had it never been like this before?

Not that Marco couldn’t, and didn’t, screw him stupid but it was never a ‘pinned down and taken so hard he wouldn’t be able to sit for the rest of the day’ but maybe it should be. Not all the time, that was impractical and fuck, was he talking out loud? 

“He likes having his ass spanked when he’s being fucked. Makes the prettiest sounds.” Darcio sounded absolutely fucking gleeful. Jean hated him a little. Maybe. 

Marco was, it seemed, very open to suggestion because a moment later his hand was coming down on the side of Jean’s ass with a crack that had him jerking away before he actually felt it. And then he felt it, the sharp hot pain and he screamed, forehead pressed against the table and back arched as pleasure blazed up his spine and twisted in his gut. Two more smacks, overlapping on his skin, and his eyes were burning and scrambling for purchase on the table top, shaking and moaning. 

Darcio’s sigh was a heated one. “Told you.” 

The biting heat faded into warm stinging crawl quickly, got blended up with everything else, and when rough fingers brushed over the spot he moaned brokenly. He wouldn’t have been adverse to some smacks on the other cheek but he didn’t have any words for that. He was spiraling up fast, so fast, felt the tension coiling low in his gut getting tighter and his tongue was thick and heavy. 

His hips banged against the table over and over, the edge digging in a little more with each pushed forward, and it was going to leave an ugly mark and he absolutely didn’t care. Scratched the table harder, pushed back into the next thrust, and whimpered when it was hard enough to take him up to his toes and make him see stars. 

He tried to reach for his dick, once again neglected, but his hand was brushed away. Marco’s hand, sweaty and rough in a way that always felt great, wrapped around him. A few twisting jerks of Marco’s fist and Jean was coming undone, shaking apart, burning up or melting or

His orgasm hit him hard, swept him up, and Marco kept moving, pumping and fucking him through it except it didn’t end, dragged on by the pleasure rocking through him. It was wonderful and terrible and when it was over, finally, and Marco was spilling into him he couldn’t do anything but stand there, fingers clutching the other edge of the table, and mewling weakly. 

A finger stroked over his ribs. “I think you broke him.” 

Marco hummed and hand rubbed down his spine as he pulled out, leaving Jean open and dripping, clenching around air. Then, with a dark kind of amusement that did funny things to Jean’s stomach: “Come here.” 

Silence and then he could feel Darcio’s presence at his side. He cracked open an eye, when had he shut them, and turned his head just enough to see then demon holding Marco’s wrist and licking his hand clean. 

A russet eye slid over to him and the demon’s lips around Marco’s fingers quirked into something devilish. The fingers slipped from his mouth and then he was leaning up, pressing his mouth to Marco’s. He saw their lips part, was sure the demon was passing his cum into Marco’s mouth, and let his eyes close again. 

That was different and really gross and hot. 

Slurping sounds were all there was for a second and then a hand was in his hair, pulling him up, and lips collided with his. He had a very distinct thought of ‘Ugh’ and then he was sucking Darcio’s tongue into his mouth and swallowing salty bitterness. 

“Bedroom.” Marco said and Jean was pretty sure he heard some shakiness to his voice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more but I got all filthy happy and added some things and...yeah. Tomorrow probably. *shrug* I'm just making Jean's birthday an extended affair.

**Author's Note:**

> So. We have 'Dark Marco', a literal demon who I am assured kills people without a twinge of remorse, and yet literal angel Marco still ends up a little...Dom-y. I might have a problem. Intervention time my friends.


End file.
